


Through Hell

by Misanagi



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-13
Updated: 2007-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misanagi/pseuds/Misanagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Earth has been conquered and now the symbol of the resistance is in the hands of their enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Like it usually turns out when Anne asks for a fic, this is part of something bigger. A fic I imagined a long time ago and have been writing slowly and secretly. This is a scene that was never meant to be written, just implied. The story actually starts a little after this, but Anne wanted some whumping and I can never say no, so here it is.

Quatre Raberba Winner had been awake when they threw the hood over his head, shackled his hands behind his back and threw him in the back of a truck with two guards that were just too happy to hit him every time he breathed too loudly. He had heard them gloat to their commander about the capture, about how easy it had been to get to one of the most guarded humans on Earth. The symbol of the resistance, their prince, a symbol the Nekars would be happy to destroy.

They'd dragged him through the base. Quatre didn't need to see to know where he was and what awaited him. The captured members of the resistance were tortured for information. If they were helpful they were allowed to remain imprisoned on Earth and if they weren't they were sent away, to be slaves at the Nekar's home planet and never return again.

He was kicked into a room and collided with a stone wall. They picked him up before he could do it himself and unshackled him. They manhandled him against the wall, pressing his back to the rough surface before they pulled his arms up, binding him again.

The hood was removed and Quatre had his first look at his surroundings. It was a small cell, nothing in it but a light bulb above, chains on the walls and a cabinet on the far corner. His heart started beating faster. This was it. He had gotten himself into it and now he would have to walk through hell. Rashid had been very graphic with his descriptions of what would happen, hoping to dissuade him of his plan but Quatre was nothing if not stubborn and had refused to give in.

The Nekar all looked the same to Quatre, the way it was difficult to distinguish one goat from another, but the alien standing by the door was known to everyone. His name was Aknogt and he was the commander, the one who had shot the president on the vid and who Quatre had seen snap his father's neck a couple of years ago.

It took all of Quatre's will power to look him in the eye and stand as tall as proud as he could in his bindings for he would not bow to the beast that had murdered his father and destroyed so many lives.

The alien talked, calmly at first, offering Quatre his life, some riches and power for one simple thing: to appear on the vid and proclaim his loyalty to the Nekars, ask the resistance to surrender, the people to accept their new rulers and hand over the resistant commanders. It was good that the Nekars didn't know that Quatre's role in the resistance went further than that of a symbol. They didn't know they had their tactician in their hands.

It didn't make things easier for him, though, not in the end. Aknogt had tired of talking and started hitting. The first day that's all they did, taking turns, throwing kicks and punches until he finally went unconscious.

He woke up on the floor a plate of gruel by his side, which he ate slowly. He slept until they dragged him again to the interrogation room and this time they used the stun guns they were so fond of. He woke up with burns all over his body, his clothes already no more than rags. They kept him awake with random showers of cold water, they starved him for a couple of days, hit him, always with one of them asking him to give in. It would be easier that way.

At some point Quatre lost himself. Between the pain and cold and hunger. Those days were a daze when his thoughts mixed between the possibility of giving in and the cruel defiance the stubborn and still coherent part of himself clung to.

Then one day Aknogt came back this time with a whip in his hand and a camera crew of frightening looking humans tailing him. It was over. The symbol hadn't changed allegiances, Quatre was still faithful, still proud. The only thing left for the aliens to do was robbing him of that pride and whatever strength the people put in him. He didn't cry out. Not with the first touch of the whip or the tenth. In his mind Quatre saw his sisters, Rashid and the Maguanacs looking at their vids, watching him, crying for him… he wouldn't allow himself to cry too.

He heard Aknogt voice pronounce his sentence. Slavery and exile. Tomorrow the humans' symbol would be nothing but another slave in a futile war. His face pressed to the stone floor Quatre allowed himself a small smile. Tomorrow Quatre Winner will be a step closer to his goal and a few tomorrows later the Earth would be safe. The fight had just started and this first walk through hell was worth it, if only for the chance to fight some more.

**Author's Note:**

> You can read a tiny sequel here: [Lighting Crashes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8490694)


End file.
